Your Wheels Suck

I like cars. I like them a lot. I'm not really a gearhead, but I go to car shows when they're around and I pause to admire a particularly nice one when I see it on the street. Example. I appreciate the time and care it takes to restore an old muscle car and I plan to do it myself when i'm retired and have nothing to do other than yell at the neighborhood kids and bitch about the government to my basset hound. That being said, I know the difference between a project and a piece of shit. My neighbor has a piece of shit.

Now, we've all had to drive cars that weren't our dream cars. Some of us lived on a couch and had to keep their 1971 Karmann Ghia patched together with speaker wire and duct tape just to get to and from their crappy job at Round Table Pizza where they ate handfulls of pepperoni when the managers weren't around to stay alive. I get it.

What I don't get is idiots that take a piece of shit with no muffler and try to pass it off as a muscle car that should be dragged up and down the street like an alcohol funny car on a track in Riverside. Your car sucks. Not only does it suck, but it's louder than it is fast. Loud, sucky and across the street from me.

Racing this shitbox up and down the street is like a toothless hooker that smells like arm pits shaking her business past you over and over. It was unpleasant the first time and the more they do it, the more I want them to get hit by a bus.

All I can do is hope that when this asshat does drive his deathtrap into a pack of cub scouts crossing the street, his cell mate is a "top".

Ok, wishing rape on someone is a little extreme, but, man... this guy is a serious douchebag.